


Fulfilled dreams

by FakeCirilla9



Category: Outlander (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Missing Scene, Outdoor Sex, Scotland, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:33:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24626290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakeCirilla9/pseuds/FakeCirilla9
Summary: Jamie and John and nothing between them but Scottish moors.
Relationships: Jamie Fraser/Lord John Grey
Comments: 13
Kudos: 77





	Fulfilled dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This is a slight AU set in season 3, in which Jamie and John leave Helwater together.
> 
> AKA Willy wasn't the last one Jamie said goodbye to at Helwater.
> 
> AKA "Have you loved someone after I left?" asked Claire.  
> "I loved no woman after ye," answered Jamie. Technically, it wasn't a lie.
> 
> ***
> 
> Scratch my previous headcanons and damn Randall; the amount of eye-staring between John and Jamie at Jamaica completed with Claire’s suspiciousness made these two canon for me.
> 
> Warning: the ghost of Jonathan Randall is ever present but it is fade.

John entered stables as Jamie prepared a horse.

"Saddle mine, too, if you'd be so kind."

"Are ye going for a ride?" asked Jamie, touched more than he’d liked to.

"When you go away maybe for good? Heavens, no. But duties call even if I'd stay here longer. We go in the same direction for a while so we can depart together... unless you find the idea unwelcome."

"I'd be glad for some company. The mair, the merrier.”

The ride wasn't merry in the beginning, though, with cries of little Willy still echoing behind them and none of them talked much, both immersed into their own thoughts.

But, gradually, the nostalgia faded away as moors and heaths open wide before them. The wind blew the scent of heather and sea air, and that of cold of the distant mountains. It was the smell of freedom and Jamie breathed deeply once more.

Laugh escaped him unbidden.

John glanced at him.

"Last time we travelled this road together, ye rode a horse and I was dragged behind ye on a rope."

"I'm sorry I bring such unpleasant memories and glad I manage to humour you.” 

They rode into the wilderness where all hardened roads ceased, the mellow peat caved in to horses’ hooves and only occasionally some dirt road peered from under the encroaching shrubs. The expanse around them undulated in hills and hollows like a dry greenish sea. The clouds rolled above them, shielding from the sun, which disc showed only late in the afternoon, more orange than yellow. John observed the livid fire that Jamie’s hair was in this light, trying to engrave the image in his heart.

“It is so beautiful here I feel like never going back,” he commented aloud.

“We dinnae hae to go back jist yet. Tarry a wee perhaps? Sleep the night and go at leisure the next morn?”

“You mean to stay here in the open?

“I've slept in much worse places many times. And I'm sure ye spend worse nights as well on a military campaign.”

“That is true,” it was hard to reason with a brutally logic Scottish highlander. There was soft heather and blue sky above. Any duties could wait.

At night, the scent of moors was yet more pronounced. As the coverlet of darkness hugged the world, the sight was of little use but other senses seemed sharper. The moorland came alive with busy noises of the night creatures. Their horses snorted close at hand, sniffing the surroundings; an owl hooted somewhere in the distance.

The clouds retrieved showing stars and the wind was almost but not quite too cold.

"Grey, are ye asleep?"

"I told you to call me John, Jamie. After everything that happened between us, I think we reached the stage where we can call each other by first names."

"Aye, everything that happened. Ye released me of ma chains.”

“You deserved it, interpreted for me, riding moors in vain efforts, sharing company in the evenings and providing perhaps the only worthy companion of foregathering at the time."

"And escaped ye."

"Then came back."

"With only one sapphire instead of a treasure."

"I still have it, you know. I haven't given it away, although formally that's the Crown’s property."

"Ye seem to make rather a liberal interpretation of the laws of England. For which am grateful if it sent me here instead of to the colonies."

"I couldn't bear seeing you imprisoned," whispered John. The answering silence made him anxious if he crossed some line, being too honest with his feelings once more.

"And noo there is Willy lad."

"He'll be like a son to me."

"I ken. Ye promised." Jamie considered his next words for a while, tracing constellations with his eyes. "Though there is no reason for ye to dae it."

"There is a reason and you know it well."

"Aye, although ye never said it oot loud."

"I was more brass than I ought to as it was."

"Hmph, maybe. Or perhaps it was me who overreacted..." Jamie’s damaged hand twitched nervously. He plucked some twig of heather to preoccupy restless fingers with.

"I was thinking... since that's our last night together, perhaps the last time we met," John’s stomach went cold at this obvious statement of a fact, "so maybe we could- if ye still want to, that is."

John's stomach twisted into a boling knot.

"If you have in mind to repeat your indecent offer, you may as well save your breath. I will do as I promised. I need nothing and expect nothing from you in return. But don't torture me, Jamie, with offering something you are loath to think about. This will bring us nothing but pain."

"Naw, I mean it no’ as a transaction. I ken ye will take care of ma wee one. I saw ye gie yer farewell to them. Ye care aboot them truly."

"Then what are you saying? Do you want me to believe you underwent a sudden change of heart? You've tricked me many times in chess game and quite a few times in real life but do me the honour of not thinking me  _ that _ naive, will you?"

"A change of heart it may be but not so sudden. Ye've got me thinking after ye refused ma offer. I handed ye a weapon and ye tossed it away. Geneva wouldnae hesitate bein’ at yer place."

"Wait, do you mean she forced you?"

"She kenned what she wanted and had strong arguments," Jamie shrugged.

"And here I thought I let a fox to their poultry."

"Perhaps ye did. She preferred a fox to the old turkey," John looked at him again, striving to read Scot's features despite the darkness. Jamie gazed up into the starry night sky though. The lines of his body seemed almost relaxed. His voice betrayed nervousness but it was nowhere near the trepidation of the first time he offered his body to John.

"But where does your current inclination comes from? If this is some kind of a thank you for making your captivity a little more bearable…"

Jamie's fingers covered his lips quicker than he could react to the sudden movement of the Scot. The touch was feather-light. It was startling how such big calloused fingers could be so gentle.

"Stop talking so much, Englishman. Call it appreciation if ye must name it. And respect and affection. It is about the goodness in yer heart ...and yer good looks arenae unnoticed also."

Their lips met in a chaste kiss. Jamie raised, but not much - their noses nearly touched - and asked: "so how aboot it? Aye or naw?"

Wide-eyed, John looked up at him, still not quite believing this was happening outside of his dreams.

"Jamie, you know I've always wanted you. It never stopped. But are you certain?"

The answer was a smiling kiss at the corner of his lips, his jaw, his neck. John’s resolution all but crumbled and all the ethics and moral dilemmas seemed as far away as the sun shining over some other part of the empire on which the sun never sets. 

They untied each other’s neckerchiefs without haste, slowly undid various buttons and loosened ties, interrupting it often with kisses. John felt himself grew hard, having the one he desired for so long pressed against him finally.

"I'll hae ye know I dinnae do it in a long time."

John chuckled, unable to hold the amusement out of his voice.

"What, you mean you weren't with a man for a long time?"

Jamie went perfectly still above him. Then withdrew.

John hit himself inwardly, sitting up in his ruffled clothes after him but not reaching over for the redhead Scot.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have inquired about such a personal topic."

"Naw, ye may." Moonlight played in Jamie's hair billowing in the wind. His skin looked pearly white in the cold pale rays. He seemed an ethereal creature of some old legend and not a real person. His words were chillingly real, though. "Ye have a right to ken when he's the reason I kept ye at arm's length, not allowing to come any closer."

So that was the cause of the frosty refusal, of recoiling so much at just a touch from a man’s hand.

"Did he hurt you?" John asked cautiously.

"Too much to speak about in the course of one night. But ye're different." A hesitating hand pressed to John’s cheek and John leaned into the caress. "Despite uniform, despite the position of power, despite the fact ye serve the Crown… ye are everything he wasnae."

"I take this is a compliment." 

"Aye. But one that doesn't do ye justice. It’s easy to be a better man than he was. And ye're better than most."

Overcame with a warm inflow of feelings, John covered Jamie's palm with his own. They leaned slowly towards each other until their breaths mingled together. Their lips met in another slow kiss. This one became fiercer soon. Teeth clanked, heads tipped to adjust better to each other, to close any reminding spaces between them until there was no room for night air chased away by their closeness.

Heat and moist softness of the inside of their bodies were spiced by the scrape of a beard and a one-day shadow.

Finally, lacking breath, they tore from one another. They gasped, looking each other in the eye, then fell at each other like beasts in heat.

Hands no longer hesitant gripped strong enough to tear a stitch. John felt the last remaining button of his vest falling off. He couldn't care less, dragging Jamie on top of him until they laid sprawled among heathers and moss.

The Scot attacked him like a starved wolf, sucking at his neck, feeling his body up with both hands, inflaming him to unbelievable extents.  One leg ground against his loins and John spread his own to let them both cling yet more closely to each other.  Once they were fitted together like that, he could feel the bulge in Jamie's trousers. The Scot fumbled with the ties with one working better hand, uttering some dissatisfied noises.

"Whoever eunuch invented this hideous attire? Things were so much easier in a kilt."

"Let me help you," offered John.

He did a pretty quick work with deft fingers used to deal with such matters in quick economic movements ever in fear of being caught at the crime. Here no one watched them but old habits die hard.  John took Jamie in his hand with reverence almost, finding him big and throbbing. He felt a bit out of breath thinking of the next closest moments.

"Ah, would ye slow down if ye don’t mind? I dinnae joke it was a while and I don't want to finish too quickly."

Jamie shrugged out of the louse shirt he wore. John used the moment to fumble his vest lying near and retrieved a vial from an inner pocket. He grinned, catching Jamie's gaze.

"Makes things easier. One shall always be prepared."

"May I smell it?"

John ceased to smile at the unique tone of Jamie's voice but brought the vial under his nose. Jamie's expression relaxed as he drew in a deep breath, half closing his almond eyes. He gripped John’s wrist that held the vial.

"Do ye use it as cologne? It smells like ye."

"Sometimes I add it to a bath."

Jamie's hot breath at his fingers turned to tongue licking, then teasing.

John drew in a shuddering breath and forced himself not to lose his grip on the fragile glass.

Conflicted between letting Jamie continue and proceeding further, he pushed his loosened breeches down eventually and brought the oil to his exposed flesh. Even not looking at him, he felt Jamie's eyes at himself as he concentrated on spreading the substance. Jamie's incredulous voice brought him back to the world where words had meaning over sensations.

"I thought  _ ye _ want  _ me _ ."

John laughed a bit breathlessly.

"I figured out the one more experienced shall take the bottom role." John looked Jamie straight in the eye. "Do you have something against it? Would you rather we switch?"

"No. I... I dinna ken."

John paused at his hesitancy. He took Jamie’s hand in the one that wasn't slick from oil.

"Would you rather we not do it?"

"I havnae said that!" as if to confirm his resolution, another strong kiss was pressed to John’s lips. The strength of his desire left John shuddered.

"Then come on and take me," John laid down on the grass with legs thrown open.

Jamie leaned above him once more, supporting himself on one hand propped against the ground near John's side to keep his considerable weigh off the smaller man. The other hand was at his own cock he leaned closer still. John’s heart hammered in his chest but then, at the moment he least expected it, Jamie halted.

“What is it?” asked John on the verge.

“I can't,” came the answer. “I cannae hurt ye.”

John didn't know whether to laugh or wail in frustration.

“You won’t.” 

“But-”

John reached to stroke his cheek. The stubble grazed the inside of his hand.

“Jamie, you can’t hurt me like that, I trust you. Just go slow.”

“But ye’ll tell me if ye’re in pain?”

“Of course.”

Jamie relented and John lost his breath momentarily.

“Are ye alright?”

John could only moan incoherently in answer. He felt the Scot starting to retreat so he threw his legs around his hips and arms around his shoulders to keep him close. He heard Jamie chuckle near his ear and finally the man started to move as John wanted him to.

“Ye ken… ye remind me… of somewan dear to me like that. The same… unable to talk, when in my arms.”

John uttered a wordless protest but it was swallowed in a kiss.

They clung to one another, moving in sync, enveloped in caressing touches, tickling turf and air warmed by their heat. Surrounded with the pungent scent of kirned heathers and the touch, smell and sight of Jamie, John couldn’t even think of how wonderful he felt. He simply surrendered to the throws of passion, not thinking at all, staring at Jamie’s face covered in deep shadow and surrounded with the stars.

Mornings after could be hard. John rarely stayed to the end of a night with men he occasionally shared the bed with. Now there was no bed, only birds chirping, a cold mist that the rising sun did not dispel yet and a large Scot that, having hijacked their blanket, slept peacefully still. John couldn't really grudge him the coverlet even as the cold had roused him awake as he had an unhindered sight at the marvellous body of the man he loved right before him. Tousled red shag emerged from one side and nearly an entire long leg that drifted out of the quilt stretched to the side. Somehow, the way only parts of his body were visible made him more alluring than if he was wholly naked. It beckoned to draw the fabric away and expose more of the bared skin. 

Yet John resisted the temptation, not wanting to wake him just yet and only admired Jamie in silence. Even his scars suited him. He had one long at the inside of his thigh, one that John didn’t see earlier in the dark. He wondered how the Scot got this one. There seemed to be so many stories to tell about the man going only by the map of his scars alone.

Jamie stretched and yawned and his blinking eyes settled on John. John held his breath awaiting his reaction once the memory of the night they shared will come to his mind but the bright smile that Jamie directed at him dispelled all the fears John could have harboured. He couldn’t help smiling back; there was something contagious in Jamie’s beam.

“Now we really must break off and go separate ways each. I want you to know I will never forget you and… thank you, for everything.” John said, looking in Jamie’s eyes and he meant every word.

“Must ’ye sound so fatal aboot it?”

“It is hard to say farewell to you. You know my feelings towards you and to think about never seeing you again...”

“Christ, John, int like I go to another world. Scotland and England aren’t far from each other... For better or for worse,” he added with a crooked smile that failed to amuse John.

“It’s not like you’d come visit me in London. The town is not as easy to blend in as Helwater was.”

“Who says anything aboot me going there? But ye know where Lallybroch lies.”

“Are you serious?”

“Aye. If ye dinnae mind cluster of children and whisky instead of ale.”

“I’m sure I will love it.”

“Then call in some day, John. Preferably without yer red coat. I’ll be waiting for ye.”

“I will come.”

Jamie leapt on a horseback. He paused yet and turning to John said something in Gaelic before urging the beast on. John had no idea what the last words meant but he stared long after him as Jamie galloped off into the moor. 

“I love you,” John whispered after his retreating back.


End file.
